


Presumed Dead

by Agib



Series: Febuwhump 2020 [19]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But not that graphic, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Graphic Description of Corpses, Mentions of violence/character death but it's pretty vague, Murder, Not Really Character Death, Presumed Dead, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Unsub | Unknown Subject
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22893070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agib/pseuds/Agib
Summary: The team knew things.There was an unsub in Quantico, Virginia. Over the past four days there had been a total of seven dead bodies. The victim type of all seven victims was incredibly specific and familiar to the team.The incredibly punctual Spencer was over an hour late for work and answeringnobody’scalls or messages.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & The BAU Team
Series: Febuwhump 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619311
Comments: 21
Kudos: 786
Collections: General Manager at the Wendy’s in Fairbanks





	Presumed Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Wohoo! Loved this concept, came to me in a dream.
> 
> Warnings for descriptions of corpses and other crime related stuff. It's similar to the show, so be prepared for profiling.

There was an unsub in Virginia. It wasn’t unheard of for the team, but the small number of murderers hanging around Quantico, Virginia were often low-profile enough to only require the local PD, not the BAU themselves.

But in saying that, over the past four days there was a total of seven dead bodies found on the side of highways, just out of range of speed cameras. Of the bodies that had been identified, each of them had been dumped within five hours of the first missing persons report.

There was a murderer who kept their victims for a maximum of five hours after taking them, then dumping the bodies, which had been mutilated beyond recognition, out of a car on the side of a highway.

This was a horrible case, and the fact that it was happening in their town only made them more tense, but it wasn’t any worse than other cases they had worked before. No, what made it worse was the victim type.

White males in their early to mid-twenties. Tall, skinny, lithe, with facial features that one could describe as… soft on the eyes – pretty, even. They all had hair down past their ears and were well-educated.

And if that victim pattern didn’t scare the team, the fact that the incredibly punctual Spencer was over an hour late for work and answering nobody’s calls or messages, absolutely _petrified_ them.

\----

After Hankel, the characteristics each of them displayed when Spencer was hurt or threatened, were aggravated massively.

Hotch went down first. He became taught and snappy at everything that moved. His worry translated as harshness which was taken out on everyone involved. His voice was rough, tone scalding, and eyebrows perpetually set in a deep scowl.

Secondly, Morgan lost it. His fear was similar to Hotch’s in that it translated as fury. Unlike Hotch, Morgan aimed his anger at both himself and any object within reach. He had snapped the level off his desk chair after the fourth missed call. After another fifteen minutes of radio silence on Reid’s end, Morgan was arguing with Hotch over whether any of them had the right to search his apartment for any sign of him.

With Morgan out of commission emotionally, Garcia was fast to fall next. She was a mess, barely holding back tears as everyone around her grew more and more stressed. She was combing through every security camera in the area, trying to contact people Reid might have passed on his typical route to work. Every time anything moved on her screen she flinched. It made her physically sick to picture the livestream from Hankel’s cabin.

On a positive note, Rossi’s go-to coping mechanism was to internalise his fear and project worry for the rest of his teammates. He was worn thin trying to calm Hotch down and keep him logical, while trying to make sure Morgan wasn’t about to punch the mirror in the restrooms and tear his fist into ribbons. He comforted Penelope, squeezing her shoulder and giving her the affirmation that Hotch couldn’t amid his own mess of emotions.

Prentiss was like Rossi in the compartmentalisation department. She somehow managed to push everything deep within her for the time being in order to work through the case as they normally would, despite the foreboding silence from their youngest member. It was almost disconcerting to say the least, the way she could hide the anxiousness and instead channel everything into work.

JJ was outwardly stressed. One side of her usually straight hair was arched up and out as a result of continuous, nervous scratching. She thought of when the file of the first two murders had been placed on her desk for consideration. If they had began working three days ago, perhaps the case would be closed now, with Reid sat happily continuing with paperwork as everyone else.

Because that’s what they should be doing. Paperwork, or another case.

Not worrying that in less than three and a half hours a new body would be found, examined by the coroner – because the bodies they’d seen so far were mutilated beyond comprehension – and then identified as Reid.

\----

Of all the things they could be doing to further the progression of the case, profiling the method of death and treatment of victims before they had passed was by far the most horrendous.

“On the first four bodies the coroner said the same thing, their death was prolonged. Evidence of torture and mutilation antemortem.” Hotch sighs, angrily rubbing the lines between his lowered brows. He drops the report onto the round table, grimacing as the pictures spill out when Morgan grabbed it.

“Although the antemortem injuries are severe, they are not the main cause of death. Manner of death was – _fucking hell._ ” Morgan dropped the report like it had bitten him, and his hand rapidly crushed against his forehead as he hid his face. “Manual strangulation,” he finishes after a long beat to compose himself.

“Okay, what does that say about our unsub?” Prentiss asks, trying to divert the fact that the manner of death would be excruciating and extended for their youngest agent, and instead focusing on the profiling.

“He needs power and control,” Rossi responds. “Based on the victim type he was likely manipulated by someone that fits the description, probably in the workforce.”

“It also suggests that he’s physically superior,” Morgan deadpans. “So far, he’s overpowered seven fully grown men, and can obviously keep them either compliant or subdued based on the lack of bruising which suggests restraints weren’t used.” He taps the table, pointing at the report. “And he can do it for long enough to inflict this kind of damage as well as being able to manually asphyxiate someone that was alive enough to fight back.”

“So, he’s organised, needs control over the situation,” Prentiss summarises.

“He probably keeps the victims somewhere he has control over, either a property he owns or the vehicle he’s using to dump the bodies.” Hotch tightens his fist and pulls the photos of the dumpsite towards himself. “If he’s organised enough to dump outside the range of nearby cameras, that could mean he somehow has access to them. Or at least knows them well enough to feel he has control over where he’s stopping to get rid of the bodies.”

“I’ll get a list of everyone who’s done construction on that stretch of the highway or has access to the cameras in range,” Garcia says quickly, already pushing out of her chair to leave the room. She always tended to remove herself from the area where crime scene photos were spread out across the table, corpses on display.

“Remove anyone who’s in a position of power or has a high role in their workplace from that list,” Hotch suggests, still studying the dumpsite and its surrounding area.

\----

They spent the next hour chasing the possibility that their unsub was a construction worker or a security camera operator, and by the time the eighth body was found they had nothing.

Hotch was quiet when he placed the phone down, and Morgan could tell from his stiffened body that they had bad news. He was terse, and everyone stayed silent on an unspoken promise as they went to the crime scene.

It took almost half an hour to drive what should be fifteen minutes. Garcia informs them the subway system was down, so the streets were flooded with traffic unlike normal.

The body was as mutilated as the rest had been, no surprise there.

Locks of bloody, brown curls were splayed against the asphalt from beneath the body cloth. Rossi stayed several steps back from Morgan and Hotch when they lifted one corner of the sheet.

Morgan had one of his hands wrapped gently around a thin, pale wrist. Delicate, lithe fingers hung limp against the body cloth, and the small lump beneath the cloth was the same height and width of Spencer’s coltish frame. He softly ran one thumb over the surface of the frail hand’s palm, squeezing lightly once before laying it back to the floor respectively.

Hotch’s face tightened, a muscle in his jaw throbbing as he turned his head away, teeth clenched taught to the breaking point.

“We need the I.D rushed,” he said firmly. “Get the coroner to organise dental records and fingerprints, we need it in the next twenty-four hours.”

Belatedly, they watched the body bag being wheeled away from the scene.

\----

“I – if… if that was him, we uh – we need to call his mother,” JJ says quietly. Morgan turns his face away from the centre of the table, still in denial.

“We don’t even kno –”

“When has he _ever_ been late before?” Hotch snaps. It was upsetting to hear, his voice didn’t even portray much anger, it was clouded mainly with exhaustion. He was tired of not being able to protect people, not being able to shelter his team – his family – from the terrors of the world. Spencer had been through enough already. He’d been shot, kidnapped, held hostage multiple times, used as a human shield and looked down upon by so many people in the workforce because of his age.

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it?

He wasn’t even twenty-seven and yet he’d suffered more than anyone should have to.

At Hotch’s words, the room falls into quietness once more. He had a point, Spencer was never late, he was consistently early and was the best out of all of them at answering his phone. He was always at the ready. There was almost no possible explanation for why he would go missing on this particular day.

Penelope begins to sob quietly, and Morgan silently shifts to comfort her. Everyone in the room chooses to ignore the wetness slowly growing in his eyes as he turns to support Garcia.

When Morgan has to lift his head up to the ceiling and blink to clear his eyes, he stands, mumbles something about the restroom and excuses himself.

Hotch presses his head against the wood of the round table. JJ holds a tissue in her fist which rests against her face. Prentiss is reading the case file, barely registering the words in between the ones which perfectly describe Spencer while Rossi sits quietly, staring into the hallway.

What was worse, the manor in which he had lost his life – or the amount of life he still had left to live?

When he went, collectively they knew every finite release they got out of their jobs – the laughs, the smiles, the familial teamwork that bonded them – it would cease slowly until the unit was a shell of what it had been with the young genius.

And it was obvious, the hardest part wouldn’t be the abruptness of losing him, it would be the treacherous journey of learning to operate without him at their sides.

There’s a small thud from outside the conference room, and a muffled, but obviously choked cry. Typically, the sounds wouldn’t have been heard, but with the blanket of silence in the room, they echoed.

Rossi sighs, standing from his seat. He expects Morgan has finally hit something hard enough to hurt himself. He leaves the room, the heads of everyone following him.

There’s a moment of extension for the quiet, and then Rossi’s hurried _“Aaron!_ ” Before the sound of several chairs scraping backwards as everyone floods the bullpen anxiously.

There’s a side satchel on the floor, and several cups of coffee spilt across the carpet beside it. Morgan is wrapped around someone, his shoulders shifting heavily as he breathes. He’s murmuring things where his face is tucked away into a slender shoulder.

_“Morgan? I – what –”_

Spencer has his arms stiffened awkwardly in the air, unsure of whether to squirm away from the embrace or comfort Morgan who’s _crying,_ which is entirely unheard of for the man. Eventually, he lowers his arms and gives two small pats, before he looks up at the rest of the room with _“somebody tell me what’s happening”_ written across his face.

“Spencer,” Hotch says curtly as he crosses the room when Morgan shifts away. Spencer tightens before he is yanked into his superior’s chest, held in the same way he had just been with his best friend.

“I – I don’t…?” He squeaks, visibly confused and increasingly concerned as he takes in the smeared mascara under Garcia’s eyes, puffiness of JJ’s hair, Rossi’s blatant ‘o’ shaped mouth and Prentiss’ relief. “What happened,” he asks softly. The weight of the room terrifies him.

Hotch pulls back, tightening the hand on Reid’s shoulder.

“Are you kidding me? Y – you weren’t here, a – and you didn’t pick up your phone!” Garcia cries, her voice throaty and broken, ravaged by emotion. “We – we – we found – there was another body and you just… you were missing, so we thought –”

Spencer’s face immediately diminishes, empathy washing over his features as he comprehends the presumption that had been made.

Morgan shifts on his feet, pressing the back of his hand beneath one eye and smearing wetness away. Spencer reaches out, one hand touching his wrist.

“I’m sorry, _God_ – I was trying to call you all morning. I was stuck on the train underground; it was all over the news.” He shrinks in on himself, surveying how utterly distraught everyone looks. “I know the case is horrible, I got coffee for everyone, but I didn’t – I didn’t even think… I should’ve –”

“Don’t, kid,” Morgan interrupts. “We just – we thought, you… we were worried.” Spencer presses his lips together in a line and nods shakily.

“I’m really sorry,” he apologises. Hotch shakes his head and takes a breath.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You’re okay.”

And really, it seems as though he means _it’s okay **because** you’re okay._

**Author's Note:**

> Scream CM prompts and requests and ideas at me on my tumblr (same username as on here) pls I'm craving it <3
> 
> \----
> 
> Give @spidersonangst @febufluff-whump (on Tumblr) all the credit, the only reason this is happening this month is because of them!


End file.
